The Wolf and the Dragon
by ArenLuxon
Summary: Jon Snow does know something. The meeting between him and Dany goes completely different and Jon finds himself with some very unlikely allies.
1. Chapter 1

"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen..." The dark-skinned woman rattled of a whole bunch of titles.

Jon looked at Davos when she was finished.

"This is Jon Snow," the Onion Knight quickly said. "He's King in the North."

"Thank you for travelling so far, my lord," Daenerys said.

"It's your grace," Jon corrected her. "I'm King in the North."

"Forgive me, my lord. I never received a formal education, but I believe the last King in the North was Torrhen Stark, who bend the knee to my ancestor. He swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. Which means forever."

"I know what perpetuity means," the King in the North said. "Contrary to you I did receive a formal education."

He heard a sharp intake of breath.

"You presume-" she started.

"You presume I'm here to bend the knee. Isn't that right?"

"So you're here to break faith with House Targaryen then?"

Jon chuckled. "Break faith? Is that really the word you plan to use? Your father was planning to burn King's Landing to the ground. Where do you think the wildfire that blew up the Sept of Baelor came from?"

She looked uncomfortable, clearly she hadn't expected this sudden accusal.

"And what about my grandfather?" Jon Snow continued. "You know what happened to him?"

"I heard my father killed him." She shifted in her seat.

"Oh," he looked at Tyrion. "I see you spared her the details."

Tyrion avoided his gaze.

"My grandfather went to King's Landing to ask about the kidnapping of Lyanna. The Mad King charged him with treason and left with little choice, Rickard demanded a trial by combat. You know what happened then?"

Everyone was silent.

"Tyrion, I'm sure you know." He looked at the Hand of the Queen.

Tyrion looked away. "He told him that fire was the champion of House Targaryen."

"And my uncle, Brandon Stark?"

"Strangled himself in his chains trying to help his father," Tyrion said, his voice flat and even.

"My father was an evil man," Dany said. "On behalf of House Targaryen, I ask you forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family."

"The North remembers," Jon Snow told her. "We do not forgive, we do not forget. You burned our loyalty that day."

"I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father," Dany insisted. "Our two houses were allies for centuries."

"Allies? But you expect me to bend the knee? That sounds more like servants. Ironically I'm here for that exact reason. An alliance, not a submission. Since your house betrayed mine last time, I believe you have something to prove to me. I'm here to see if you're worth our trust as an ally. Every time a Targaryen is born, the Gods flip a coin and the world holds his breath to see on which side it will land. That's what I'm doing, princess, holding my breath. I'm the King in the North, I'm here for a military alliance, not to bend the knee to a potential Mad Queen."

"Princess?"

"You hold Dragonstone, you're a Targaryen. Dragonstone is traditionally given to the heir apparent of the Iron Throne, isn't that right, Tyrion?"

"It is," Tyrion confirmed.

"So, that would make you a princess. I'm not denying you the right to the Iron Throne, it is yours by all the laws of Gods and men. But any claim to the North burned alongside my grandfather and uncle. You asked me not to judge you by your father's crimes, so you can't expect me to be bound by my ancestors vows. The North is mine now. I'm here to see what you decide. Do you wish to make us your enemies, or your allies?"

"I have three dragons," Dany said, her tone still arrogant. "An army of Unsullied and a horde of Dothraki. Dorne and the Reach have already sworn fealty to me, you think I need you?"

Jon smiled. "Euron Greyjoy has allied with Cersei. Half of his fleet guards Blackwater Bay while the other half plans to ambush your Unsullied at Casterly Rock. Jaime has taken the Casterly Rock army and plans to march on Highgarden. The Tarly's are with him. If you're fast, you can still take measures."

She paused for a second. How did Jon Snow know about her plan to take Casterly Rock?

As if on cue, the door opened and Varys entered.

"Your grace," he bowed. "I have something urgent to discuss."

"We were defeated at Blackwater Bay?" She asked.

"Well, yes, how did you know?" He was caught off guard.

"It seems you may well be a valuable ally, Jon Snow," Daenerys said, looking back at the King in the North. "How did you know all this?"

"My brother sees things. By the way, it's not Jon Snow. I'm the son of Lyanna Stark and your brother, Rhaegar Targaryen."

Her eyes widened, but she quickly regained her composure. "You have no way to prove that. And even if it was true, you would still be a bastard. Rhaegar was married to Elia Martell."

"His marriage was dissolved," Jon told her.

"Excuse me," Tyrion interjected. "The marriage of the crown prince? A consummated marriage that produced children and was the foundation of the crown's alliance with Dorne? What kind of moron dissolved that?"

"The High Septon, not sure whether he was drunk," Jon said. "In any case, the High Septon married Rhaegar and Lyanna in secret."

"A marriage is a binding legal union," Tyrion said. "Secret marriages are a contradiction."

"Still," Dany said. "There's no way you can prove any of this."

"Maybe. You think your dragons will recognise a fellow Targaryen? I think they will."

"Everyone knows Rhaegar loved Lyanna Stark," Tyrion said. "He has the right age and his story makes sense. A honorable fool like Ned Stark would never father a bastard. If he speaks true, his claim surpasses yours."

"Don't be ridiculous," Dany said. "I'm the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he is just a bastard boy."

"I have no intention of claiming the Iron Throne," Jon said. "I just wanted you to know the truth, aunt."

She took a deep breath. "Regardless of who you are," she said. "You did help me. The Unsullied and Highgarden can still be saved because of the information you gave me. If there is anything I can do for you in return, don't hesitate to ask." She hated to be in his debt. This smug good-looking northern bastard.

"As a matter of fact, there is. I need to mine obsidian, dragonglass. I know there is plenty of it on Dragonstone. Stannis told me himself."

"Dragonglass?" She looked puzzled. "Well if it is of any use to you, you're free to mine it. I'll even give you some men to help."

"Thank you, princess."

"I have things to discuss with my advisors now," she said. "But please, stay on Dragonstone."

"Am I your prisoner?" Jon asked.

"My guest. Please make sure their weapons are returned. Don't betray what little trust I have in you, Jon Snow."

He nodded and left the throne room.

"Shouldn't we talk about, I don't know, the army of the dead marching on Eastwatch?" Davos asked as they were walking back.

"Should I hold up a sign with 'the end is near'?" Jon snow's tone was slightly mocking. "Even a glacier moves faster than the White Walkers. I need to earn her trust first, then convince her to take a little trip north to see the army for herself. The Wall is still between us. We can mine dragonglass, that's already a big step forward."

"I'll get to it," Davos said. Someone would have to oversee the mining.

Jon was left alone. Like he had expected, this Dragon Queen had little experience in politics and was very arrogant. The dragons had simply fallen into her lap which had probably gained her half of her army. The other half were enemies of Cersei who simply saw an opportunity for vengeance. Like all rumours, half of them were untrue. Daenerys Stormborn wasn't a terrifying force, she was just a girl, a girl with three dragons and a bunch of allies with sometimes questionable loyalty. But one rumour was true: she sure was beautiful.

 _You know nothing, Jon Snow._

Oh, Ygritte, you have no idea how wrong you are.


	2. Chapter 2

"She's a strange girl," Davos commented.

"Tell me about it," Jon replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Both of them had been overlooking the mining of the dragonglass since this morning. Things were going smoothly.

"Jon Snow," a voice called.

Jon turned. "Oh, princess. Good to see you again."

Dany was alone, which Jon thought was rather strange. He had learned the hard way that bodyguards were vitally important to survival. Clearly, Dany hadn't learned this lesson yet.

"Things are going well here I see," Dany said. She came standing next to them.

"They are," Jon confirmed.

"The Lannister army is defeated."

"Oh." He should have known she would do something with the information he had given her. But he hadn't expected she would move so fast.

"I flew over with Drogon," she explained. "They didn't stand a chance. The Unsullied are changing course as well. They'll regroup at Highgarden."

"Do you have Jaime? He could be a valuable hostage." _If you don't let him escape, as Catelyn had done._

"Plunged into the river," Dany said, her voice flat. "In that armor, he should have drowned."

"Too bad."

She shrugged. Casualties were a part of war after all. "I couldn't have done it without your help. You told me exactly what they were planning. If not for you, I would have fallen into their trap like a silly little girl."

Jon shrugged. "It's nothing, glad to be of help."

"Unfortunately she still has a big navy from Euron. They kinda smashed Yara at Blackwater Bay. I can't take King's Landing for now."

"Unfortunate." He would help her, but the North didn't really have a navy to speak off.  
"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Why do you need all this dragonglass?"

"Oh, there is an army of zombies marching on the Wall," Jon said casually.

"What?"

"Didn't you hear? There's about a hundred thousand of them."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dany demanded.

Jon raised an eyebrow. "Would you have believed me?"

"Well… no, probably not."

"That's why I didn't tell you."

"We could bring one here," Davos cut in. "Show it to her and to Cersei, convince everyone."

"Why would we need to convince Cersei?" Jon asked. "Her army was just roasted by Daenerys. It's not like she can help us in any way. Besides, she's crazy. She'll backstab us whenever she has the chance. We're talking about the woman who blew up the Sept of Baelor, and didn't even lie about it. She could have blamed Daenerys or made something up, but no, she publicly admitted she blew it up, killing thousands of people. You really want someone like that on our side?"

"Good point," Davos said. "I wasn't thinking clearly."

One of Jon's northmen approached them.

"We have a problem," he said.

"I'll take care of it," Davos said. He followed the man deeper into the cave.

Jon and Dany were left alone.

"In any case," Dany said. "I'm still not convinced a giant undead-army is coming to kill us all, if you don't mind."

"We could take a little trip north," Jon proposed. "Hop on your dragon and fly, it shouldn't take long."

"No, if I march away now, Cersei will march back in and take everything back."

"Everything? You've only taken Dragonstone so far. Cersei has no army left. She only has her navy now and she'll keep it right where it is. She knows you won't burn the city, so your only option is to sail up Blackwater Bay with your army. You'd be wise to wait a bit. How long do you think her men will stay loyal when they heard that one dragon roasted her entire army? The longer you wait, the more her support will bleed away. It's entirely possible you won't have to fight at all eventually. They might assassinate her and open their gates for you. No one wants to fight for the losing side after all."

"The people are waiting for their rightful queen."

"They've been waiting for over twenty years, I think they can wait a bit longer. Besides, you still have no navy to sail up the Blackwater, so what does it matter? You can give your Hand some time to come up with a plan. Preferable a good one this time. He defended King's Landing from an attack from Dragonstone before, now make him prove he can do the reverse too."

She still seemed reluctant to leave Dragonstone behind, even for only a few days. But his words made sense.

"When I'm in doubt, I play a simple game," Jon said. "What's the worst possible reason someone could have for his actions? Then I ask myself how well this explains their actions. If it doesn't add up, I find a less worse reason until I find one that fits."

"I don't get it." She looked confused. Her confused look was kinda cute. It reminded Jon of something else, but he couldn't figure out what.

"Well," The King in the North said. "What motives could I possibly have to make you fly north with me? What's the worst one you can think of?"

"It could be a trap. You could be working for Cersei."

Jon put his hand on the pommel of his sword. "Then I would have killed you right here, wouldn't I? The dragons only answer to you, there's no need for elaborate plans. Killing you right here would end the war."

"True," she admitted.

"But I haven't killed you. So…"

"So you're not working for Cersei," she finished. She started to understand what he meant.

"Exactly."

"So that would mean you need another reason to make me fly north. If it's not to help Cersei, then what is it? It doesn't make any sense."

"Which explanation does make sense?"

"Everyone would have advised you not to come here," she said slowly. "You have no reason to trust me. So you must have a pretty important incentive."

"If the army of the dead breaches the Wall, they'll kill us all, and it won't matter whose skeleton sits on the Iron Throne. Is that a good incentive?"  
"You're speaking the truth," she realised. "It's the only explanation that makes sense. There has to be some huge threat out there which justifies you coming here and helping me." She paused. He was right. Him coming here would make no sense any other way. "I will fly up north," her voice was hard now. "As soon as you bend the knee."

Jon sighed. "Even if I do, what makes you think the North will honor my decision? They chose me as King in the North, they can change their mind whenever they want. I'm still a bastard. With three trueborn Starks in Winterfell I don't stand a chance when I lose their trust. But if you save us from the undead, the North will accept you as their Queen without trouble and whether I bend the knee won't even be relevant."

"Cersei still sits the Iron Throne. How can I call myself Queen when someone else has my throne?" She turned her back on him. "It's like you said, I'm the princess of Dragonstone at the most. All those titles, they are all meaningless. I need the Iron Throne. If you don't acknowledge me as your Queen then why would I fly north? I won't be a Queen coming to save them, I'll just be… Dany."

"You're Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen."

She turned. There was surprise in her eyes, and something else he couldn't quite place.

"There is no need to take the Iron Throne," Jon continued. "King Robert always said his warhammer was his claim to the throne. You have three dragons and a huge army, there is no way anyone will think of you as anything less than a Queen."

"You did."  
"I have no choice. We were in public."

"What do you mean?"

"The last Targaryen King burned my grandfather. What will the northern houses do if they hear I just bend the knee to a new Targaryen? A Targaryen they know nothing about. You need to prove yourself first, prove you're not a Mad Queen, or they'll be a rebellion. As long as you haven't done that, I need to publicly show doubt to preserve my own position as King in the North."

"So you would have bend the knee if we had been alone?"

He was suddenly aware of how close she was.

"Well, uhm… of course, you're the rightful Queen. But, what's the point then? It only has meaning if it is in public."

"It has meaning to me."  
She was close. Far too close.

"Uhum." Someone cleared his throat.

"Davos. You almost gave me a heart attack." Talk about bad timing.

"Sorry," Davos said, looking at the two flustered royals. "I uhm… took care of the problem."

"Oh."

"You'll have to continue without your King in the North for a while," Dany said.

"How so?" Davos asked.

"We're going north. I want to see this army of the dead for myself."

She turned and walked out of the cave.

"How did you do that?" Davos asked.

"Charm?"

Dany turned. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah." He turned to Davos. "When you have enough dragonglass, bring it to Winterfell, we'll need it."

"I will. Good luck."

Jon nodded and then followed Dany out of the cave.

For some reason, his thoughts went back to a different cave.

Some days he wondered, what would have happened if he had stayed in that cave with Ygritte back then?

He knew it for certain now. He liked this Dragon Queen. Under her arrogant shell was something very vulnerable. She was beautiful and smart, but mostly, she had a gentle heart. She could have flown her dragons to King's Landing and taken it, yet she didn't. She was different.

But he could not fall in love with her. How could she ever be anything more than a substitute for Ygritte?

 _Here I am_ , he thought. _Caught up in a love triangle with one dead side._


	3. Chapter 3

Drogon flapped his wings faster. The wind was playing with their hair. Silver-blond and raven-black, they couldn't be further apart. He was technically her nephew, yet it didn't feel like that.

"They say the Night's Watch swear a vow," Dany said.

"They do," Jon confirmed. He had to hold Dany tight to prevent himself from sliding off, and from her tone he guessed she did not mind this at all.

"So, I can't help but wonder. How are you King in the North? Didn't you swear to 'hold no lands and father no children'?"

"Something like that. You know, Maester Aemon once said that if we beheaded every ranger who lay with a girl, the Wall would be manned by headless men."

Dany chuckled. "So no one takes their vows seriously?"

"Some parts are interpreted more loosely. The punishment for desertion is still death. The only problem is that it is the duty of the Warden of the North to carry out the sentence. And I killed the Warden of the North."

"So it's like Robert's warhammer? You don't need a proper claim if you have enough strength to enforce it?"

"Something like that." Actually, he did fulfill his oath. He offered them his life and they took it, now he owed them nothing. But now didn't seem like the right time to tell Dany about his resurrection.

"There it is," Jon pointed. "Winterfell."

"It's beautiful," Dany said.

"Built upon underground hot springs by Bran the Builder in the Age of Heroes."

"The same one that built the Wall?"

"That's the one." She was quite knowledgeable about all this. Did her brother tell her? Or maybe Jorah or Tyrion.

Drogon descended. They landed smoothly on the courtyard. Jon released her and climbed down, carefully avoiding the spikes on his way.

"Jon." Someone hugged him. Someone very small, with smooth black hair.

"Arya?"

She looked up. "I missed you so much."

Jon smiled. "You took my advice to heart, didn't you? 'Stick them with the pointy end.'"

"You heard?" She looked surprised.

"'Tell them the North remembers. Tell them, winter came, for house Frey'. The tales are all over the Riverlands."

She shrugged. "I picked up some skills, in Braavos."

The Faceless Men. Of course.

"How did you manage to get _all_ of them together?" Jon asked.

"Got lucky I guess."

"Is this your sister?" Dany asked. She stood next to him.

"Yeah," Jon said. "This is Arya Stark, my half-sister. Well, technically my cousin. Arya, this is Daenerys Targaryen."

"Nice to meet you," Arya said. Her eyes wandered to the huge dragon

"You want to fly on him?" Dany asked.

"I can?" Her eyes glittered with hope.

"What do you think, Drogon?" The Dragon Queen turned to her dragon.

The huge dragon bowed down and sniffed Arya. He grunted approvingly.

"He likes you," Dany said, a little smile playing on her lips.

Jon and Dany helped her up. When she sat secure on his back, the dragon spread his wings and Arya screamed with joy, or possibly fear.

She was a little girl after all.

Both of them looked as the dragon started circling around the Old Keep. For a moment he felt like Arya was his daughter.

"I need to find Sansa," Jon said, eventually taking his eyes of Arya.

"You already did," a voice said.

Jon turned. His sister stood in front of him. She had a serious look on her face, as usual. There was not much of the North in her auburn hair and blue eyes.

"Ruling suits you," Jon lied.

"Are you here to rule again?" Sansa asked. He couldn't read the emotion behind her words.

"We're just stopping on our way. Daenerys and I are going to fly beyond the Wall. We have to see this army of the undead."  
"And then what?"

"Come up with some plan. I doubt they'll have siege weapons or climbers so we have plenty of time to stop them."

"You got the dragon ass?"

"What?"

"Dragonglass, did you get it?"

"Oh, yeah, Davos is overseeing the mining."

"Good. Bran wants to see you. He's at the Godswood."

At that point, Drogon landed again.

"Arya, what are you doing?" Sansa demanded.

"Riding a dragon," Arya said, her grey eyes blinked innocently.

"Oh. Well uhm. That thing is big."

"You must be tired," Jon quickly said to Dany. He had noticed her response at the word 'thing'.

"A bit," Dany said, her eyes were still on Sansa.

"I'll show you the guest room," he offered.

"Okay."

She followed him inside.

"You have lovely sisters," she commented.

Jon chuckled. "They are a bit weird. Sansa always wanted to be a lady."

"And how did that turn out?"

"Well they married her off to two sadistic bastards and a dwarf."

"Simultaneously?"

Jon chuckled. "No. But I'm guessing she's reconsidering her career choices."

"I wasn't aware she had much choice in the matter." From what she had heard from Tyrion, she didn't. Nor did Tyrion himself for that matter.

"Of course she did," Jon argued. "You didn't see Arya? When they cut off her father's head, Arya cut off her hair and fled the city while Sansa was crying next to that sadistic bastard. If she had been a bit smarter, Catelyn wouldn't have released the Kingslayer and Robb might still be alive. There is always a choice, if you're strong enough to make it. Sansa made hers."

"It seems you don't like her that much."

He couldn't believe Sansa never had an opportunity to kill Joffrey, or escape somehow. Her inaction had forced Catelyn's hand in Jaime's release. Robb had lost his trump card, and soon after, his head.

"She thought life was a story and she was the main character," Jon said, his eyes avoided hers. "And I was just a bastard. An unimportant side character. Arya is the only sister I have."

Something white approached them from the other side of the hallway.

"What is that?" Dany asked, fear in her voice.

"Ghost, my direwolf."

"You have a direwolf as pet?"

"You didn't hear?"

"They conveniently left that part out it seems."

Ghost sat down in front of them so Jon could ruffle his fur.

"I missed you, buddy."

Dany crouched down next to him. "Does he bite?"

"Not with me here."

"How reassuring," she mumbled. Yet, she still reached out with her hand.

Ghost was weary. He sniffed her hand, but then allowed her to pet him.

"He likes you," Jon said. _And he's not the only one._

"Drogon liked you as well. Maybe both of us have a way with animals."

"Maybe."

"Why do you call him Ghost?"

"Oh. He never makes a sound."

"I see. An albino mute direwolf. You like strange pets, don't you?"

"Well," Jon got up. "We can't all have normal dragons as our pets, can we?"

"They aren't just pets," Dany said as she stood up. "They are my children. The only ones I'll ever have."

"You're infertile?"

"Yeah."

Actually, he already knew that. Bran had mentioned she'd been fucking Daario for over two years, so she couldn't be that fertile.

"Who says that?" Jon challenged her.

"A witch."

They had arrived at the guest room now.

"The one who tricked you into killing Drogo? The one you burned alive?" Jon asked as he opened the door.

"I see you're well informed." She entered. From her reaction, she seemed to approve of the guest room. Or maybe her approval was directed at something else.

"This witch might have been an unreliable source of information," Jon suggested. "Did you consider that?"

"Well," Dany said. "Only one way to find out."

She closed the door, leaving Jon outside with a smile playing on his lips.


	4. Chapter 4

"I don't know either," Bran said.

Jon sighed. "Let's go over what we know one more time. I saw the Night King at Hardhome. He was raising the dead."

"With that his army reached its current numbers, one hundred thousand," Bran added. "Actually I'm surprised that many people live north of the Wall. Seriously, what are they eating? Snow?"

"The Thenns would definitely eat me," Jon joked. "Anyway, after the attack on Hardhome there shouldn't be much wildlings left in the north."

"Agreed."

"So that means the Night King should be marching his army to the Wall."

"That indeed seems like the most logical action," Bran said. "But his speed is absurd. Even if wights are slow, they can walk day and night, he should have reached the Wall a dozen times over."

"I had time enough to go to Winterfell, beat Ramsay, be declared King in the North, sail to Dragonstone and fly back with Daenerys. Hardhome isn't that far."

"He must be waiting for something. Maybe he needs something to melt down the Wall."

"No, he can't," Jon said, confident.

"Why not?"

"Ice melts under pressure. That's why glaciers move. If the Wall was really made out of pure ice at least the bottom eighty percent should have melted down due to the weight from the ice on top of it."

"Maybe's it's a mixture of ice and stone."

"That doesn't solve the problem. The ice would melt and leaves massive holes. It's not made out of ice, so it won't melt no matter what he throws at us. And since it has stood for thousands of years at such a ridiculous height, I doubt even siege weapons could take it down. It has to be made of something very special, something you can't just take down, even with siege weapons."

"Which he doesn't have," Bran added. "So what does he plan to do? Scale it?"

"Seems like the only option. He can't dig, the Wall's foundations are too deep."

"Unless he plans to round the Wall," Bran suggested.

"That would make the most sense. He should be building ships and sailing around the Wall, through the Bay of Seals, that's what any sane commander would do."

Bran sighed. "There has to be some trick we're missing. You have to be very careful when you fly north with the Dragon Queen."

"I will."

"And don't forget: there's no way to prove your claim to the Iron Throne. You may be the son of Rhaegar, but other than my word you have nothing to back that up."

"I know that. I told you: I'm working on it."

"Okay. Oh, one more thing…"

\

"How do you answer these charges… Lord Baelish?" Sansa said. She kept her stare fixed on nothing for a moment. Then, she turned to Jon and spoke normal again. "How was that? Badass enough?"

"I told you, this is ridiculous," Jon replied.

"I'm practicing," Sansa said, annoyed.

"So, what are your charges again?" Jon asked. Both of them were alone in what had been Ned's room.

"He killed my aunt Lysa."

"You testified yourself it was a suicide. So basically you're saying 'I am a liar, but right now I'm going to tell the truth.' Do you have any evidence other than your own word that he killed her?"

"He killed her."

"It's not what you know, it's what you can prove in a trial. If they find out the Lady of Winterfell lied about the murder of Lysa before, we're screwed. What else have you got?"

"He poisoned Jon Arryn."

"Grand Maester Pycelle testified it was a natural death. Why would anyone believe you? Unless you plan to dig up whatever is left of his body by now."

"He betrayed father, put a knife to his throat," she tried hopefully, confidence was leaking out of her voice with every word.

"In front of hundreds of witnesses, so really, not that big of a reveal. And don't forget that Ned was planning to support Stannis. You can't blame Littlefinger for saving his own skin. Stannis would have flayed him alive."

"He lied to Catelyn. He said the dagger belonged to Tyrion Lannister." She desperately clung to the last thing she had.

"No he didn't. He said it belonged to him and he lost it in a bet to Tyrion. Which, by the way, Catelyn should have seen through straight away. Tyrion would never bet _against_ Jaime, let alone arm an assassin with his own blade."

"Then who did sent the catspaw to Bran?"

"Someone who wanted to cause a rift between the Lannisters and the Starks. Think about it, none of it made any sense. The catspaw was smart enough to cause a fire as distraction, but when he sneaked into his room he found Catelyn. Instead of running, he _attacked_ the Lady of Winterfell. That's a big deal, way more than killing a crippled boy who many believed would die anyway. It's not giving someone a clean death, the gift of mercy, it's basically a declaration of war. Bran had nothing to do with it, someone just seized an opportunity."  
"That sounds like Littlefinger."

"Even if it was Littlefinger, you'll never be able to prove it. Littlefinger wasn't even in Winterfell that day, so why would his dagger be? He may be smart but there's no way he predicted Bran would fall from that tower." Well, be _pushed_ from that tower by Jaime actually. "So," Jon finished. "All you have are some hollow accusations. This is a terrible idea."

"Than what do you suggest?"

"Don't be an idiot. Why would you pretend you outsmarted him in front of a crowd? Are you really going to throw some hollow accusations at him and then kill him without a proper trial? People will lose faith in you this way."

"If we give him a trial, he'll win."  
"Exactly. So don't give him one. Don't give him the chance to show everyone you are a murderer. Let Arya kill him, in secret. No one ever needs to know we were involved."

"If Littlefinger dies…"

"We can marry Sweetrobin to another house to form an alliance. With Mad Queen Cersei in the south, I think they'll be up for an alliance, even without Littlefinger. We're better off without that scheming snake."

"Who are you going to marry Robin to? Lyanna Mormont?"

Jon chuckled. "Probably a bad idea." _Although, not your worst idea so far._

He would think on this problem later.

"I have to go," the King in the North said. "It's a long way to the Wall, and we're running out of time." Even at his glacier-speed, the Night King would eventually reach the Wall. And if Dany supported them, her army would have to be moved as well, so there was no time to lose. They were still massively outnumbered against the army of the dead.

"Why are you doing this?" Sansa asked.

"Huh?" Jon turned in the doorway.

"Why do you support my plan to kill Littlefinger? He's our ally. I may have personal reasons to kill him with Ramsay and all that happened, but you have no reason to kill him. Quite the opposite."

"He's creeping on my sister," Jon said. "That's reason enough for me."

Their eyes locked for a short moment. It seemed to last forever to her, but in reality, it was hardly a second before he looked away and left her alone with her confusing thoughts.

\

"Changed colors?" Jon asked, eying the grey clothing. It looked mostly identical to her black dress: a strange crossing between leather armor and a dress. A steel chain of dragonheads slashed diagonally over her chest.

"You like it?" Dany asked. She swirled around.

"That grey, those are Stark-colors."

"Indeed," she confirmed. "Shall we go?"

"Yeah, sure."

He helped her climb on the massive dragon's back.

Jon couldn't help but feel uncertain. There was this nagging feeling he had overlooked something important.

Why was the Night King marching his army in slow-motion on a solid Wall when he should be sailing around it? Why didn't he have any siege weapons? There had to be something going on. Some detail they had missed.

If only he had known back then, things might have turned out differently.


	5. Chapter 5

"What's wrong?" Dany asked.

"Nothing."

"You're unusually quiet."

She was sharper than he gave her credit for.

"Well." He might as well say it. "I talked to my brother Bran."

"And?" She pressed.

"There is something we're missing. The Night King is marching on the Wall, but his speed is way too slow. He must have some hidden ace up his sleeve."

"Maybe you're overestimating your enemy," she suggested. "It is an army of zombies after all. How smart can they be?"

"Maybe. But I'd rather be paranoid than dead."

"Good point."  
Drogon's wings kept flapping steadily beneath them. The huge dragon…

"Wait a minute," Jon blurted out.

"What's wrong?" His tone sounded like he'd figured it out.

"This is not a dragon."

"Sorry?"

"Oh, sorry. Uhm, technically this isn't a dragon."

"It sure looks like a dragon to me."

"It's a wyvern. Dragons have four legs."

"Your point being?"

"Sometimes we can't see the truth even though it is right in front of us."

"Wyvern, dragon, what does it matter?" Dany said. She took his hand and pulled it tighter around her belly. "Make sure you don't fall off."  
"When you repeat a lie long enough, people will start believing it even though the truth is rather obvious," Jon continued. "Did you know the Iron Throne doesn't even have two hundred blades?"

She frowned. "I thought my ancestor took a thousand blades from his enemies."

"Exactly. That's the story. Any idiot can count them and see that's it's not even close to one thousand."

"All very interesting, but none of this helps us."

"True," Jon admitted.

Yet, it felt like he had gotten closer. The truth was dancing just outside of his reach. He only had to reach out and take it, but every time he tried, it laughed and jumped away.

Wyverns, dragons… one thousand, two hundred… there had to be something. What was he missing?

"The Night King is waiting for something," Jon said, as if saying it out loud would help him get closer to the solution.

"What could he possibly be waiting for?" Dany's voice was sceptic. "Allies?"

"That is the only thing that makes sense." But where would the leader of a zombie army find allies?

"You know, if I were the Night King, I would attack from the south," Dany said.

"Obviously, any sane person would." This wasn't helping. "But he clearly isn't doing that."

"Why not?"

"Bran saw him north of the Wall with a hundred-" Jon stopped suddenly. "Of course. That's it. Oh, I could kiss you now."

Dany mumbled something along the lines of 'no one is stopping you', but Jon was lost in thoughts and didn't hear it. His mind quickly puzzled everything together.

Dany regained her composure. "You mind sharing your discovery?" She asked, her voice harsher than necessary.

"It's only a hunch really."

"Even so, you sound confident."

"Bran said he's north of the Wall with a hundred thousand wights. Now, what if he's not?"

"We'll see for ourselves soon enough. But up until now you trusted every word your brother said, so why the sudden change?"

"I trust he _believed_ there were a hundred thousand wights with the Night King. But do you really think he counted them all? There aren't even a hundred thousand seconds in a day, counting them all is insane. Which means it is possible there aren't a hundred thousand wights at all, but something close enough to make it _look_ like one hundred thousand."

"You think he split his army?"

"A common tactic. Mance Rayder did the same when he attacked Castle Black, Robb did it at the Whispering Woods and Jaime did it at Highgarden. What if the Night King did the same thing? A few thousand wights could easily take Eastwatch from the south, especially combined with an attack from the north as distraction."

"You think that would work? Moving them without anyone noticing?"

"A single ship sailing around Skagos, staying away from the coastlines. Wights don't need food or water, they are undead. Once they reach shore, they travel by night and hide by day. It could be done."

"Interesting theory," Dany said. "But even if you are correct, what are you going to do about it?"

"I'll figure something out. We need to reach Eastwatch first."

If he was right, they would be in trouble. If the Wall fell now, the Night King could march all the way to Winterfell with nothing stopping him. Their best tactic would be abandoning the North and trying to hold them at the Neck, but Jon knew he would be killed (again) if he proposed something like that. The northerners would never abandon their homes like that.

Could the combined armies of the Vale and the North hold off the Night King? Winterfell was a hard location to defend. Once the gate was breached, everything would be over, a lesson the northmen would learn before they died, just like Ramsay had.

He would have to send scouts south when he arrived to see if his hunch about this southern party was correct. And he could only hope it wasn't.

"What's wrong?" Dany asked. She was eerily good at reading him, even when she wasn't facing him. Could she tell by the silence? Jon knew he didn't talk enough for very silence to be suspicious, so it had to be something else.

"I was part of a southern raiding party before," he admitted.

"You were with the wildlings?"

"Yeah."

"How did you get there?"

"Lots of stuff happened. I got captured, pretended to be a turncloak and waited for a good opportunity to escape. I was in time to warn the Night's Watch."

"Strange."

"You don't believe me?"

"Of course I do," she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "But, if you saved them all, then you shouldn't feel guilty when remembering that."

"I didn't save them all."

"The way I hear it, you did what you could. Of course people die in a battle, that doesn't make you personally responsible for every men."

"It was a woman."

She was silent for a moment. "The Night's Watch has no girls."

"Indeed," Jon confirmed.

She was silent again. "I heard there is a village south of the Wall. You said the Night's Watch is quite lax about enforcing certain parts of their vows. Was she-"

"She wasn't a prostitute."

"Then who was she?" Dany pressed.

Jon didn't reply. Not that it was necessary. The Dragon Queen could probably figure it out herself.

Silence again. This one stretched for long time until Dany finally broke it.

"Do you still love her?"

Jon once again kept silent.

That was all the answer she needed.

Of course he did. Why would you stop loving someone because they happened to be dead?

She shifted her grip on Drogon. The distance between them slightly increased.


	6. Chapter 6

All heads turned when Drogon landed on the courtyard.

He spotted both wildlings and brothers of the Night's Watch. Many of them had been training together prior to his arrival.

A tall man walked up to them. Jon recognised him as Iron Emmett, the ranger he had appointed as master-at-arms at Castle Black. That seemed a lifetime ago now. Jon smiled inwardly. Technically speaking he had died so it actually _was_ a lifetime ago.

"I didn't expect you here," Emmett said. "Let alone in such beautiful company."

Was he talking about the dragon or Dany?

"I could say the same," Jon replied. "Last I remember I gave you command of Long Barrow."

"You did," Emmett confirmed. "But after your brother send his warning we did some shuffling."

Jon decided not to ask who led the Night's Watch now. He was no longer a part of it.

"Technically you're a deserter," Iron Emmett said, some concern in his voice.

"Do tell the King in the North that. I'm sure he'll want my head."

Emmett smiled. "Good to have you back."

Dany cleared her throat.

"Oh," Jon said. "Sorry. This is the Dragon Queen, Daenerys Targaryen."

"I had pieced that together already," Emmett said. He held out his rough hand. "I'm Emmett, they call me 'Iron Emmett' here."

Dany shook his hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

More people were coming his way. He recognised Cotter Pyke and his maester, along with Tormund Giantsbane. Somehow, he got the feeling these two came along quite well for once mortal enemies. Then again, their personality was almost identical. Kill first, then ask questions.

They talked a bit, and then Cotter Pyke mentioned some strangers had come to the Wall. Unsure of what to do with them, they had locked them up.

Jon was brought to them. Clearly, they had forgotten he wasn't Lord Commander anymore.

In the cell were three men. One bearded men in the robes of a Red Priest, one battleworn guy with an eyepatch and a third one with a huge scar on his face most likely caused by fire. He vaguely recognised all of them but could not place them exactly.

"Finally," the priest said.

"You must be Jon Snow," eyepatch-guy said.

"Who are you?" Jon asked.

"Beric Dondarrion," the man replied. "This is Thoros of Myr and that's Sandor Clegane, the Hound."

The Hound. Thoros of Myr. Beric Dondarrion. He had heard those names before.

"Pyke," he said slowly. "You were first through the breach at Pyke. With a flaming sword."

"So I have heard," the priest said. "Honestly, I was so drunk I hardly remember that battle."

The Red Priest had been with King Robert. The pieces of the puzzle started falling in place.

"My father send you. You were supposed to deal with the Mountain."

"He did," Beric confirmed. "But we got sidetracked a bit. And now we are here. And you know why don't you?"

"For fuck's sake," the Hound said. "Just let us out of here."

"I would advise against that," Dany said.

"Agreed," Cotter Pyke said.

"We're all on the same side," Jon said.

"How do you know that?"

"We're all breathing."

He could see it in their eyes. These men had seen things. Their past didn't matter. They knew the army of the death was real and they were here to help.

"There are only two sides," Jon said as he opened the cell. "The death and the living. Pick one." He turned to the commander of Eastwatch. "Has anyone send scouts south?"

Cotter Pyke frowned. "Of course not. We have send some north, the army is a few days away at most. They are moving quite slow."

"I think they are waiting for something."

"Waiting for what?"

"Reinforcements from the south. They could have send a small army around Skagos."

"That would explain their slow marching speed," Iron Emmett said.

"We can't risk sending a scouting party now," Cotter said. "We'll need every men to hold the Wall."

"How about three men who were sitting in your cell? They weren't doing anything important, were they?"

He turned to Beric.

"He makes a good point," Thoros said. "It's very strange we arrived in time. If the Night King was at Hardhome, he should be here already."

"We'll move south," Beric said. "If there is a party of wights down there, we'll find them."

"I'm counting on you."

They all went back to the surface. Cotter Pyke and Tormund went back to their man and their scouting party started preparing for their journey south.

"What are we going to do in the meantime?" Dany asked.

"See if we can slow them down even more. Has Drogon rested enough you think?"

"I think so."

"Good. We're taking a little trip north of the Wall."

They got back on Drogon. Dany put her hand wrong and cut it on a sharp scale.

"Are you okay?" He took her hand.

"I'm fine," she said. There was only a minor cut on her palm.

For some reason, he kept holding her hand.

"Uhm, shall we go?" Dany offered.

"Yeah, of course."

Drogon spread his massive wings and took off.

They spotted the army about an hour later. Thousands and thousands of wights slowly moved forward, with some White Walkers amongst them on top of their undead horses.

"Oh, you weren't kidding," Dany said.

"It's like my father always said: Winter is Coming."

"Yeah, obviously."

"Huh?"

"Seasons are cyclic," Dany pointed out. "Winter is _always_ coming. Besides, what do you say in winter?"

"Uhm, winter is here bitches?" She did have a point, their words just stated something everyone knew. Yes winter was coming, obviously, that's how seasons work. It would be more helpful if they said _when_ winter was coming. This was not like the other words. 'Fire and Blood', 'Ours is the Fury', 'Hear me Roar', 'Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken'. Those were all warnings or traits of their house. 'Winter is Coming' was like saying 'The Sky is Blue', yeah, obviously, what's your point?

"Maybe they meant something else with it," Jon said. "And the meaning got lost on the way."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, maybe-"

"What?"

"Nothing," he lied

According to the origin stories, the Night King was an old Lord Commander of the Night's Watch who married a female White Walker. No one was sure if it was a Stark, a Bolton or another house, but everyone was certain it was one of the northern houses. Traditionally, alliances were sealed with marriage.

What if this Last Hero and the Night King were the same guy? Or at least related somehow. The White Walkers were stopped thousands of years ago by the Last Hero, but there were no details on _how_ this had happened. What if this 'Battle for the Dawn' was actually fought through diplomacy? Then 'Winter is Coming' would be a warning. The White Walkers came in the Long Night, which was a long winter. 'Winter is Coming' could refer to the White Walkers who were allied with the Starks. 'Don't mess with us, cause we have an army of ice zombies on our side'. Now that was a proper warning.

Was this too big of a stretch? For supposedly mindless beings, they were remarkably effective at communicating with Craster. In return for his sons, they left him alone.

He remembered the other words his father had spoken so many times. 'There must always be a Stark at Winterfell'. Why? What was wrong with a castellan? Many lords were absent from their keep for years. Yet somehow, a Stark, even if it was a ten year old, had to stay behind.

Maybe there had to be a Stark there to communicate with their northern allies? Their _real_ northern allies.

Still, even if this crazy theory was true, none of that explained why they were coming now. The Starks were… well, actually, the Starks _were_ threatened. Brandon and Rickard were killed, Robb was killed, Rickon was killed, Lyanna was killed and Ned was killed. If there was ever a time the Starks were in danger, it was right now.

Right at this moment, he remembered another northern saying.

'The North Remembers'.

"Jon? Hey, Jon?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. I was thinking."

"About what?"

"There's a lot of them."

"Yeah. Shall I go down and try to burn some?" She seemed eager to do so.

"No, look over there."

She saw some White Walkers with… "Spears?"

"Yeah, I think so. If you come to close, they will try to take Drogon down. Regardless of how awesome he is, he's not invulnerable"

"Let's go back then. We know enough. We'll just have to stop them at the Wall."

Drogon turned around.

Just because they look like monsters doesn't mean they are monsters. They had not killed his father, uncle and brothers. Those killers had been humans. The Lannisters had sent their regards, not the White Walkers.

And the North Remembered.


	7. Chapter 7

_This was about the epitome of stupidity_ , Jon thought as he wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. Even his horse seemed to agree as he had to dig his heels into its flanks to make it move forward. Then again, that could be the rough path as well, or the cold.

"I should have stayed in that cave," Jon murmured under his breath.

It looked like a storm would come later.

Even if this went wrong, he could always try to kill the Night King with Longclaw, Jon convinced himself.

An annoying voice reminded him that a hundred thousand zombies stood between him and the Night King, but he ignored it.

Sneaking away in the night to go talk with their enemy. How could he be so stupid? He based himself upon conjecture alone to decide the White Walkers perhaps weren't as pure evil as they thought. And this 'perhaps' might kill him later on.

But then again, he had done the same with the wildlings. He had gone against all the rules to let the wildlings pass.

But that had been different. Common sense dictated that was the right move. Here, common sense told him to turn around right now before he got himself killed. And either way, last time he had taken a risk they had killed him for it.

His thoughts got more and more clouded as the horse moved on.

Eventually, when he felt like he would freeze to his horse, he reached the camp. Well, 'camp', the bunch of wights were just standing around. When night fell, they stopped and sat down on the ground until the sun rose again.

No going back now.

Jon kicked his reluctant horse into motion.

The wights spotted him.

If they attacked, he could still try to run. On horseback, he should be able to outrun some dead guys.

But they didn't attack. A few stood up and bowed down their heads.

Jon was wary as he went on. If they wanted to kill him, the smart thing would be to lure him inside. But if he wanted to kill the Night King, he would have to get inside as well.

A wight gestured to him.

 _Follow me_. The meaning was obvious.

Jon dismounted and led his horse with him. The wight led him through the camp of wights until they reached the middle. Several White Walkers sat around in a circle. He spotted the Night King, who stood up.

"Finally," the Night King said. His voice was very rough and dry, but Jon could understand the words. "Have a seat, fellow Lord Commander."

"I think I'll stand," Jon said.

The Night King frowned. "How much have you figured out?"

"You're allies with House Stark," Jon said. "You're both the Night King and the Last Hero."

"Hm. Not bad. But only half true I'm afraid."

"How so?"

"I am indeed the thirteenth Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," the Night King confirmed. "Also a Stark. But not the Last Hero. He lived much earlier."

"Oh." Of course. A stupid mistake. The Night's Watch had been established before the Night King was born.

Jon reached for his sword under his cloak. Had he just made a fatal mistake?

"I see you are confused," the Night King said. "Allow me to explain. We were indeed allies with the First Men. Your mistake was not to consider _why_."

That took him back. "Well, the most obvious reason would be a common enemy, but…" That doesn't make any sense. Who would that be? The giants? The Children of the Forest?

"The Valyrians."

"What?"

"Surprised? The Dance of Dragons, the Blackfyre Rebellion, the Field of Fire. Targaryens alone have caused more deaths than all other races combined and that's just one family. Can you imagine how many deaths that race caused? The Targaryens were only a minor family with only a sliver of the true power of the Dragonlords. In ancient times, the Field of Fire happened so many times they didn't even have a name for it. It was normal. Until we dealt with them that is."

"The Doom?" No one knew what had caused it. Could it be that…

"That was us," the White Walker confirmed. "Well, we, allied with the First Men."

"But, if you were allies, then-"

" _Were_ allies. That is the correct word, Jon Snow. The First Men stabbed us in the back. So we sought help with the Children of the Forest. At first, they helped us, even found a way to create more Walkers, but later, they stabbed us in the back as well, made the Pact with the First Men and drove us north. The Last Hero defeated us and then they raised that stupid Wall of ice to keep us here. Well, it's not made of ice of course, but you get the point."

If this was true, this was even bigger than he had expected. The White Walkers responsible for the Doom of Valyria? Was that really possible?

"You attacked us," Jon said. "Multiple times."

"I'm the only one who can speak," the Night King explained. "And most humans attack first before asking questions. You never really gave us a chance to explain ourselves."

"And your alliance with House Stark?"

"An alliance sealed by marriage. The Starks promised us our heart's desire."

"And what is that?"

"Vengeance, justice, Ice and Blood."

"Against whom? The Targaryens?"

"Everyone. The Children of the Forest, the Valyrians and all the southerners. Only the North will be spared, as per our agreement with House Stark. I no longer represent that House, unfortunately."

"That's insane."

"Funny," the Night King said. "Your uncle said the same. Just before trying to kill me. Those filthy Children saved him. But they won't be here now. Don't try anything foolish, Jon Snow."

"Are you going to kill me?"

"We've been waiting for thousands of years for the proper signs. We finally saw it. Five and one children, two female, four male. One of those was the Prince we are waiting for."

"The Prince that was Promised?" Or Princess.

"Yes. So we send them protectors, direwolves."

" _You_ send the direwolves?"

"I did. I sensed one of you was the one we were waiting for."

"Isn't the Prince supposed to fight _against_ you guys?"

"At that point the prophecies disagree. There are two possibilities. Either the Prince becomes a new Last Hero and destroys the White Walkers once and for all. For that he has to refuse the throne. If he ascends it instead, he becomes the King of Bones, leader of the wights and White Walkers and the one who shall lead us to victory and vengeance."

"The Iron Throne?"

"No. The Iron Throne was made with dragonfire from the swords of Aegon's enemies. If you wish to become the King of Bones, you must destroy the Iron Throne and create a new one. A Bone Throne, created from the skulls of your enemies."

"You tried to kill my brother Bran."

"The Three Eyed Raven tricked him. Bloodraven is a Targaryen, our mortal enemies. We did not intend to kill Bran, only Bloodraven and those who stand in our way. Honestly, you think he escaped because Hodor held the door for a few minutes? A slight head start for a crippled boy and an exhausted girl dragging a sled through the snow? We let him escape on purpose. At that point, we couldn't tell him the truth yet. He would have never believed us. The Three Eyed Raven had pushed him too far. He first had to learn the truth by himself, like you did."

His words made sense. Bran could have never outrun the army of the dead like that. The only explanation that made sense was that they did not pursue.

And his remarks about the Targaryens made some sense as well.  
Every time a Targaryen is born, the Gods flip a coin, and the world holds his breath to see on which side it will land.

Many Targaryens had been insane and millions had died because of that. Maybe the world was indeed better off without crazy fire spitting lizards and arrogant Dragonlords riding them.

But then again. The Night King had no desire to stop there. Only the North would be spared. Everyone else would die.

"Isn't it the Three Eyed Crow?" Jon asked.

The Night King raised an eyebrow "It's Blood _raven_. Do you even know the difference between a raven and a crow?"

"Of course. Ravens are taller and have a different tail-shape, wedge-shaped. They also travel in smaller groups." But the Night's Watch are called 'crows' and Bloodraven was a Lord Commander previously. So Blood _raven_ was a _crow_ , technically. How strange.

"Uhum," the Night King cleared his throat with a rumbling sound. "Going back to our initial subject. It's time to decide. In light of our old alliance I'll let you go this time regardless of what you choose. But next time, we might be enemies. So, Jon Snow, what will it be? King of Bones or Last Hero?"


	8. Chapter 8

_Just think logically_ , Jon told himself. There had to be a way out of here.

Obviously, neither option was particularly attractive to him.

If he left now, he would have to battle the Night King later on, and his army of one hundred thousand wights. Even if he did win that fight, there was still Cersei to the south. He could not underestimate her. This was the woman who had blown up the sept of Baelor without batting an eye. Making an enemy to the north and the south was a bad idea.

But of course, he could not join the Night King either. The North would kill him for that… again. Yes, they wanted revenge against the Lannisters, but not against the _entire_ south. Besides, Tyrion was a Lannister as well, and he clearly had nothing to do with the Red Wedding. The North didn't care about that, but Jon did. Tyrion was the only one who had been honest about the Night's Watch. Tyrion was the one who had designed Bran's saddle and send back Ned's body to the North. He could not betray him like that.

But the Night King would not care for that. He would destroy them all without exception. And if the North did not move aside, he would kill them as well. Jon would be their leader, but only after he had constructed the Bone Throne in King's Landing, not a minute earlier. Until then, the Night King would watch his every move very closely, expecting betrayal at every turn. He had tried playing turncloak before and it had almost cost him his life.

He was stuck. If he left he would have to battle the army of the dead later. They may let him leave now, but not next time. But if he didn't leave, they would kill everyone, including Daenerys.

The Night's Watch would battle them which would result in their death or his own. They would never yield, not as long as the Wall stood.

 _Think_. There had to be a way. As King of Bones he could lead them, but for that King's Landing had to be taken first and the Bone Throne constructed so that was not an option. They said they would spare the North, but the North would never move aside for them. He had already gotten himself killed over letting some wildlings pass, no way he could convince anyone to let the White Walkers pass.

There had to be a way. If only he could get them south to fight against Cersei without actually going _through_ the North. Then he would solve two problems at the same time. They could kill the Lannisters, take King's Landing and earn his trust. Once they trusted him, it should be easy enough to capture the Night King and lock him up or something. When he had the Bone Throne, he would have his own personal undead army and he would be the one deciding who got killed and who got spared. But for that, he had to destroy the Iron Throne, at least, that is what the Night King had said. In any case, he would have to reach King's Landing first no matter what.

But the Night's Watch would never surrender, not as long as the Wall…

Wait a minute. Of course. That was it.

The Night's Watch would never surrender _as long as the Wall stood_. The answer was right there. He just had to make sure the Wall didn't stand anymore.

Could he do that?

Did he even have a choice?

"I have an idea," Jon said.

"That's not really an answer," the Night King said.  
"Isn't my answer obvious? The North Remembers, Night King. I'll gladly accept your help. However, you mean to attack Eastwatch. Doesn't that break your promise about sparing the North?"

"How else will we get south? If there is a way to pass the Wall without fighting, I'll gladly hear it."

"I'll convince Daenerys to burn down a part of the Wall more to the east. Once there is a hole in the Wall, the Night's Watch will surrender. They will never meet you in open battle, not with those numbers. Then we can move to the _real_ enemies in the south."

The strength of the Wall was its height, its weakness was its length. They could never prevent a dragon from taking down a part of the Wall.

"You really think you can convince her to burn down the Wall?"

"I do."  
"You can try. But we'll be watching you, Jon Snow. If you don't return in three days, we'll attack the Wall, with you or without you."

"Three days is more than enough."

Would it work? The Wall was not made out of ice, that was impossible. So what would happen if you used dragonfire? Would it melt? Even stone could melt if you raised the temperature high enough. He could only hope it would be enough or this plan could backfire completely.  
The Night King had asked him to pick between two options. However, Jon thought as he kicked his horse into motion, who could have predicted he would have created a third choice?

\

\

Jon chuckled. 'Convince Daenerys', was the Night King really that stupid? Daenerys had seen the army of the undead with her own eyes, nothing he said would ever convince her to burn down the Wall. So the logical option would be…

"Hey buddy."

The dragon opened one eye and looked at him suspiciously.

Drogon got along quite well with him, but that was when Daenerys was with him.

"I have Targaryen blood as well. Surely you can take me for a short ride."  
Drogon snorted disapprovingly.

Damn. What now? Try to convince Daenerys?

He might as well try to convince the walls of this castle to fall down by themselves. Daenerys would be more likely to turn him in.

Drogon's eyes narrowed. He was looking at something behind Jon.

The King in the North looked over his shoulder.

What the…

"Ghost?"

There was no mistaking it. There was only one white direwolf south of the Wall that moved without making a sound.

But… Ghost should be at Winterfell. He had not taken him on Drogon and the speed of the dragon should be much higher than that of a wolf, even a direwolf.

Something strange was going on here.

However, what happened next was even stranger.

Ghost sat down in front of the dragon and looked it dead in the eyes.

The dragon looked back.

They kept this look for a long time and then, suddenly, Drogon bowed his head.

Jon blinked. Was this…?

Drogon looked at him. He could see the message in his eyes.

'What are you waiting for?'

Had Ghost convinced him? Just what the hell was going on here?

No time to think about that now. It was almost morning, if he waited any longer, he would have to explain what he was doing here with a dragon and a direwolf at this hour.

Jon climbed on Drogon's back. The dragon took off without him saying anything.

Jon did not steer, but clearly, the beast sensed what he wanted.

They followed the Wall. Eastwatch became smaller very quickly behind them.

After a short flight, Drogon dived down and hovered in front of the Wall. They flew up and down several meters every time he flapped his wings.

Was he waiting for something?

"Uhm. Dracarys?"

Yellow-red flames erupted from the dragon's mouth.

Jon looked as the flames licked the mighty Wall. Whatever it was made off, it could be melted down. When the flames were gone, a gaping hole was visible now. Around it, giant chunks of the Wall fell down. The crashing sounds carried far in this environment.

Drogon took a breath and released his flames again, further down this time.

For a moment, Jon was worried the dragon would run out of stamina, but his concerns were needless. After a solid fifteen minutes, a part of the Wall had been reduced to rubble. An army could climb over this easily. No one had disturbed them yet, but they must have heard this sound.

Drogon landed on the ground. With a sudden move of his neck, he threw Jon off.

The King in the North landed hard on the frozen ground.

Clearly, this was as far as Drogon planned to take him.

With a disapproving snore, the dragon spread his wings and took off, without Jon.

He really did take after his owner.

Well, it was only a short hike to the army of the undead from here. And the sounds of the Wall crashing down should have reached them as well.

He could only hope the Night's Watch did not capture him first.

Jon started walking.

For a structure that had stood for thousands of years, it really came down quite easily. If only Ygritte could have seen this. It was so simple. You just had to kiss it with fire.

He pulled his cloak tighter around his body and increased his pace.

"Night gathers, and now my watch begins," he mumbled. "It shall not end until my death."

Well, he had died, so his Watch had technically ended.

"I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children."

According to the wildling definition of marriage, he had 'married' Ygritte when he took her prisoner. Although that really depended on how you defined 'marriage'. He was also holding the entire North so that was definitely 'holding lands'.

"I shall wear no crowns and win no glory."

Did being King in the North count as 'wearing a crown'? Beating Ramsey was definitely 'winning glory'.

"I shall live and die at my post."

Again? No way. Next time he would die somewhere else. Preferably in his own bed, at the age of eighty, with a belly full of wine.

"I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold."

Oh irony. He was the fire that burned down the cold Wall.

"The light that brings the dawn." Yeah, it was dawn by now.

"The horn that wakes the sleepers.'

Wasn't the horn of Joramun supposed to bring down the Wall?

"The shield that guards the realms of men."

Against what? He had let both the wildlings and the White Walkers past now, so what exactly was he guarding the realms of men against? If anything he was doing the exact opposite.

"I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."

Honor? How many times had he betrayed them by now?

Only one thing missing. If he fathered a child, he would have broken every single part of the vow.

He should feel sad. Of course, he had left the Night's Watch before, but that was still to 'guard the realms of men'. It was just way more efficient to do that as King in the North rather than Lord Commander. However, now was entirely different. He was going to let the White Walkers past the Wall to murder Cersei and take King's Landing. This was personal vengeance, nothing more.

He had always comforted himself with the idea that he was doing stuff for the greater good. He had let the wildlings pass, for the greater good. He had joined the Night's Watch, for the greater good. He had left that cave, for the greater good. And now, here he was. She was dead, and she was never coming back. If he had been a bit more selfish, he could have saved her. The wildlings had gotten south of the Wall anyway without fighting. He could have found a way to get them there earlier. But no, he had been a stupid boy and done things 'for the greater good'.

Well, Jon sped up his pace, not anymore.


	9. Chapter 9

_This was by far the fastest army ever_ , Jon thought.

While their walking speed was slower than humans, they had the distinct advantage that they never had to sleep or eat. This army had no trouble with supply trains or any other practical issues and could march day and night without stopping.

They had passed through the hole in the Wall a few weeks ago. Several scouts had watched the army pass through. The Night's Watch had done exactly as Jon predicted. Not that they had many options. They also didn't really have the time to get to the hole. And they did not want to leave Eastwatch defenseless. This could be a trick after all. But maybe most importantly, no one wanted to fight a losing battle. Certainly not one they could easily avoid.

Either they would flee across the Narrow Sea, or they would try to meet up at another location where they had some chance to win.

In the Gift, they had found a deserted farm and repaired an old carriage. They managed to get some supplies there as well.

Jon used the carriage to sleep and eat while the army kept walking. For a few hours a day, he would join them and ride next to the Night King on an undead horse, but that was mostly out of boredom. The Night King was not very talkative and the wights could only grunt. There were no opportunities for betrayal because the Night King was always surrounded by several generals who looked at his every move with their unblinking eyes.

The White Walkers did seem to possess some kind of intelligence because they seemingly followed silent orders from the Night King. When they came by abandoned farms, the White Walkers organised the looting. They mostly found food, clothes and weapons which were stored in the carriage. Eventually, they secured two more carriages.

Jon wasn't certain whether the Night's Watch was pursuing them. But even if they were, they would never be fast enough. Unless something would hold up the army of the dead for a long time, no one would be able to catch up with them.

For now, it seemed like the mere appearance of their undead scouts or their undead horses was more than enough to make anyone flee.

"We're close to Moat Cailin," Jon said.

"Can we expect resistance?" The Night King asked.

"I didn't put anyone there, but…"

"If they want to stop us, this is a location that makes sense. The causeway is easy to defend."

The causeway. The only dry route through the Neck. Of course, they could try to get the help of house Reed, but Jon doubted that would happen. And marching an army of undead through a swamp just didn't seem like a good idea in general. No, they needed the causeway.

Very convenient that there just happened to be a dry route through the swamp. What kind of strange magic had they used to achieve that? With medieval technology it should be pretty challenging to build something like that. And who maintained that thing? House Reed? How would they do that?

But without maintenance, it should have overgrown with plants extremely fast.

Anyway, none of that was relevant now.

"From the north it should be easy to take Moat Cailin," Jon said. "But if they have allied with House Reed we'll be in trouble."

"A mere nuisance," the Night King said. "Do they have dragonglass?"

"Davos is overseeing the mining. Normally he would bring it to the Wall and Winterfell, but if someone sent him a raven."  
"We'll just have to check what the scouts report."

The scouts returned half an hour later.

"We have a problem," the Night King said.

Did they communicate telepathically? The scouts hadn't even grunted and yet the Night King knew exactly what they meant.

"Enemies?"

"Your little Dragon Queen is over there, with a bunch of foreign savages. I hope I don't have to remind you that fire is very harmful to wights."

"You could take them down."

"I'd prefer not to take the risk. If they kill me, we're done for."

Maybe he should make sure that happened?

But then again, he had already betrayed Daenerys so it was very unlikely he would talk his way out of this one. He had compromised his position of power. Right now, the North would never back him up. And without that, no one had any reason to listen to him.

"Maybe we can convince them to let us past," the Night King said. "They are not our enemies after all."

Jon laughed humourless. "Convince Daenerys? Good luck with that."

"You've got a better idea?"

"Uhm, good point. Let's go talk."

They urged their undead horses forward. Actually, he did have an idea. But it was quite risky.

The Dragon Queen was waiting for them. She was surrounded by Tyrion, Davos, Jorah the Andal (who was obviously not an Andal) and some random dothraki.

"I see you've betrayed us," Dany said. She still looked like she could hardly believe it.

Jon approached them with the Night King and a few White Walkers. Even now, they stayed close to their leader, as if Jon could betray them at every moment.

"Not really," Jon said. "These are our allies. If you just let us past-"  
"Are you insane? This is an army of undead monsters."

"Who have not harmed anyone here," Jon pointed out.  
"Yet," Davos added.

"Look," Jon said. "This is the Night King, he's a fellow Stark."

"Hey," the Night King said, he raised his hand.

Jon inwardly facepalmed. 'Hey', really?

"He's a monster," Dany said.

"And what would you call that massive fire breathing lizard?" The Night King said.

He heard a disapproving growl from Drogon. This was getting out of hand.

"Look," Jon said. "Just let us past, we don't want to harm you. Our enemies are south of here."  
"You've betrayed the realm," Dany said.

"They said the same thing when I let the wildlings pass."

"Your wildligns are at Winterfell," Davos said. "Don't count on them now."  
Even if they were here, he doubted he could convince Tormund Giantsbane to vow for him. He had no choice but to go with his risky plan.

"So, what are you going to do?" Jon asked. "Fight us?"

"You give us no choice," Dany said.

"Actually I do. You've accused me of betrayal, so go ahead and put me on trial."

She was taken back for a moment. "Very well. I'll listen to whatever you have to say and then-"  
Jon smiled. Only Tyrion seemed to have realised what he was planning to do.

"I want a trial by combat."

Dany looked at her Hand of the Queen.

"Technically speaking-" Tyrion started.

"I know."

"You've got no choice," Tyrion said. "Right now, you still have a chance to get the North behind your cause. But if you deny him a fair trial, they'll feel betrayed."

"No one would ever have to know," Dany slowly said.

Davos stood in front of Jon. "Then you'll have to kill me as well. I won't stand for this. Jon Snow makes a fair demand, killing him is madness."

"Fine," Dany said eventually. "If we win, you'll take your undead army back north."

"You have my word," the Night King said.

"Do we trust him?" Jorah asked.

"Drogon will make sure he keeps his promise," Dany said confidently.

The Night King was not impressed.

"And if I win," Jon said. "You'll let us pass through."

"Fine."

Jon unsheathed his sword. He handed the scabbard to the Night King.

"You sure you don't want a champion?" The Night King asked.

"Who?"

"Well, me. I'm a pretty good fighter."

"No, it has to be me. They won't accept the outcome otherwise."  
The Night King nodded. That made sense.

He turned back. Everyone had arranged in two half circles.

As he had expected Ser Jorah stepped forward.

Ser Jorah may be older than him, he was a seasoned fighter. One of the first through the breach at Pyke. And completely devoted to Dany.

Jorah's grey eyes rested for a moment on Longclaw.

Jon realised how incredibly cruel this was. He was going to fight Jorah with the ancestral sword of house Mormont.

Still, Jon was not about to ask to switch blades.

They approached each other and raised their longswords.

Jorah was the first to make a move.

Jon blocked. The old knight was reasonably strong. Certainly not as strong as Iron Emmett, but pretty decent for an older man. Jon counterattacked.

Pretty quick too.

They exchanged some more blows. It would probably be easiest to win on stamina. Jorah's speed would surely drop after some time in heavy armor.

But Jon quickly noticed another advantage. Jorah's sword already showed several notches from Longclaw. If this fight continued too long he would break that sword. But that would not be accepted as his win. Daenerys would only accept a fair and square win, not some dirty trickery.

Ser Jorah attacked again. Jon blocked.

So far, neither of them had landed any hits.

It was Jorah who landed the first one. A small cut around Jon's left elbow. The sword had cut through his leather armor and he felt the stinging cut. Not too concerning.

Jorah smelled his chance to end the duel quickly and made a furious strike. A bit too furious perhaps. Jon ducked beneath it and counterattacked.

His sword cut through steel and leather with little trouble and made a large cut across the old knight's chest. If Jorah had not jumped backwards just in time, it would have been a dangerous wound. Now, it was just an undeep horizontal cut across his chest.

Now, each of them had taken a minor cut. Although Jorah was clearly worse of.

Both were breathing hard now.

They waited a second before resuming their fight with renewed vigor.

Jorah was getting a bit slower. The wound was not that deep, but he was still bleeding. And the cold could get in now.

They exchanged more blows.

Then, it happened. Longclaw connected with a deep notch and the longsword snapped. Suddenly, Jorah was only holding a few thumbs of broken steel. He closed in and plunged what remained of his weapon into Jon's belly.

Jon gasped for breath. In a reflex, he did not swing his weapon but punched Jorah in the face with his fist. The old knight stumbled back with a bleeding nose and tried to unsheathe a knife. But Jon had already closed in and held his sword against Jorah's throat. Jorah swallowed hard. He released his knife which slid back into the scabbard.

"Yield," he said calmly.

Jon lowered his blade. His arms were incredibly heavy and pain was flaring up in his belly.

But he had won.

Two White Walkers appeared next to him. They each took an arm and semi-dragged him back to the Night King. Now that the fight was over he suddenly felt very tired.

The Night King pulled out the handle of Jorah's longsword. The jagged edge was only the length of a pinky so if no vital organs had been hit, Jon should be fine.

The Night King grunted something. A few wights came with clean bandages they had cut from old clothes (probably stolen from some farmer). They also had some alcohol with them. They cleaned his wound and bandaged it up with crude movements.

"Well done," the Night King said.

Jon was too tired to reply.

"I think your girlfriend is mad at you," he continued, eying the Dragon Queen.

"She's not my girlfriend." And weren't the Targaryens your mortal enemies?

"You need some rest. You're clearing speaking nonsense."

Jon allowed the generals to help him to one of the carriages.

Daenerys kept her word and let them pass through.

\

When Jon woke up again, his wound had closed almost completely and they had crossed the Neck. Apparently House Reed had given them no troubles.

The Riverlands were a complete mess. With most of the Freys dead and no Tullys, the riverlands were basically no man's land. The Blackfish was dead and Edmure Tully seemed to have vanished into thin air. The Lannisters were licking their wounds at King's Landing after their 'Field of Fire' defeat against Daenerys. The Brotherhood without Banners had gone north to fight against the White Walkers.

By the way, the Night King had confirmed he had send a small party around the Wall to take Eastwatch from the south. What this party was doing now was not clear. The Night King did not seem keen on talking about how exactly he communicated with his wights. Jon guessed there were some limits as any question about this southern raiding party was dismissed. Maybe the distance was a problem to give new orders?

In any case, the Riverlands were a mess. Many local Lords were fighting for control of the Riverlands, in a land that was already pretty war-ravaged to begin with. Half of the houses seemed to have been burned down and many crops were destroyed. With winter so close, it looked like no one would survive in the end no matter who came out on top after these battles. The winner would simply be the last one to starve to death.

They had little trouble passing through as no Lord had a decent army to contest them. And obviously, no one was _that_ stupid. If an army of a hundred thousand stood on your doorstep, you let them pass, obviously.

However, Jon was certain ravens were already flying to King's Landing to warn cersei of their coming.

"Snow," The Night King pulled him out of his thoughts.

"What?"

"We have a strange situation at the rearguard."

"Trouble?"

"Apparently some wolf has been following us for about half an hour already."

"A wolf?"

"A massive white one with red eyes. He makes no sound."

Jon almost fell of his undead horse.

What the…

Ghost?

He immediately wheeled his horse around and rode for the rearguard. The Night King looked very confused but did not follow him.

After passing by thousands and thousands of wights he reached the end of their lines.

And there he was, calmly walking a few steps behind the last wight. All clean white fur as if he had not crossed an entire kingdom to get here.

Jon jumped off his horse.

"Are you a teleporter?"

The wolf came closer and allowed Jon to pet him.

This was completely impossible. Last he remembered Ghost was at Eastwatch. Could he have caught up with the undead army?

Sure, Ghost was incredibly fast and had a lot of stamina, so theoretically it could be done. But still, it was very strange. How would he even know where to go? How the hell did this direwolf keep showing up? Were they connected through something?

The Night King did mention he was the one who sent the direwolves, so maybe it was not so surprising Ghost had found the army of the undead.

In any case, it was unlikely he would find the answer.

"Come on buddy," Jon said. "It's time for vengeance."

Ghost growled approvingly.


	10. Chapter 10

Jon stopped his undead horse. He squinted his eyes against the morning sun.

"That flag," he said.

"Sellswords," the Night King said. He came riding next to Jon.

"Where did she get the money to hire them?" They had thought King's Landing would be easy to take, but seems like Cersei was a bit better prepared than they had hoped. The road here had been incredibly easy though. Maybe a bit _too_ easy now that he considered it.

"I have a guess," the Night King said.

"The Iron Bank of Braavos?"

"Most likely."

"But, why would they help her?"

"I suggest we go ask her."

The Night King steered his horse.

Under normal circumstances, this would be a hard battle since Cersei had an easily defensible position. She was outnumbered roughly ten to one, but a man on a wall had a huge advantage. Not to mention they had put large ballistas on the walls. While these were most likely designed to hold off dragons, they might be quite effective against undead as well.

But there were secret ways into King's Landing. Under the city was a complete network of tunnels created by Aegon the Conqueror and the later kings. Most of these secrets had been lost, but Bran had been able to provide Jon with detailed drawings.

Jon had been working closely with Bran since the very beginning. While the details had changed a bit, their larger plan had always been to take King's Landing. The drawings Bran had send him where very accurate. Accurate enough to take King's Landing with his eyes closed.

The army split up at the command of the Night King and went down the countless tunnels. Roughly a thousand wights attacked the mud gate as a distraction, the same gate Stannis had attacked.

A small group of about thirty wights and four Walkers went with Jon and the Night King straight to the Red Keep. Their tunnel was only wide enough for two people to walk next to each other. Jon went first since he had the map. He noticed the Night King and the Walkers put the wights between them to create some distance. Even now, they did not fully trust him yet.

He couldn't blame them. This tunnel was a good moment for betrayal. There was no escape from here. But it was not yet time. He needed the Night King, for now.

Jon lead them through. As expected, several tunnels had collapsed which forced them to retrace their steps. But after what Jon guessed was about two hours, they finally reached the surface. A winding staircase took them up. There, they had to push away a stone. Four wights were needed to pry it loose.

Jon climbed out of the hole first and looked around.

Books. The floorplan was correct. This was the library, just outside of where the Tower of the Hand had been once and next to the small sept.

The floor consisted of large tiles, one of which was loose and hid the secret stairway. It probably hadn't been used in decades if not centuries. Which is why it had been so hard to push out most likely.

The others climbed out as well.

The library was deserted, which was not surprising. They were in the middle of a battle after all.

The group went outside. The wights spread out in small groups on a grunt of the Night King.

Shortly after, the alarm was raised.

While the guards fought bravely, they didn't stand a chance. The wights did not die when stabbed and had taken them completely by surprise. Not to mention only a small number of guards had been stationed here. Most of the men were on the walls trying to hold off an army they soon would realise was already inside.

They regrouped shortly after on the courtyard. A quick count learned Jon that twenty-three wights remained. A few had been cut apart beyond repair probably.

Further away, they could hear the distant sounds of battle.

"Are we winning?" Jon asked.

"I think so," the Night King said. "We outnumber them drastically. Many are fleeing."

 _You think so?_

He really wondered how exactly the Night King communicated with his wights. Were they just puppets? Capable of following simple orders, but not capable of actually interpreting things?

With four Walkers with them, there were only a handful left to lead the battle outside. He could only hope that would be enough.

"Let's get inside," the Night King said. He gestured with his hand.

Two White Walkers pushed open the double doors which, strangely, weren't locked.

A second later it became obvious why.

For a moment, Jon saw the head of the Walker surging through the air, and then his entire body exploded. Little ice crystals filled the air and then scattered away.

He heard the Night King curse.

A massive man stood in the doorway. He was dressed in steel plate armor that seemed impossibly heavy. It was painted white with a crown edged on it. A white cloak was fastened to his pauldrons. On his head was a greathelm which obscured his features.

Ser Robert Strong. The Kingsguard Bran had warned him for.

In his right hand, Ser Robert held what could only be Widow's Wail, the Valyrian steel sword of Joffrey. It looked tiny in his large hand. In the other hand, he had a massive tower-shield.

Behind him were dozens of other figures, both Lannister soldiers and other Kingsguard. They held glass jars with a green substance that could only be…

Jon cursed and ran to the left.

A few pots crashed into their lines. Wildfire gushed over the screaming wights.

Luckily, Jon was out of reach.

Another Walker blocked a strike from Ser Robert with his spear.

Surviving wights and one more Walker sneaked past Ser Robert to attack the men behind. Ghost joined them as well. More screams filled the air.

The second Walker fighting Ser Robert went down.

Damn. If the Walkers were defeated now, they would lose this battle. All the wights resurrected by a certain Walker went down if he died.

He had to take this giant down.

The Night King seemed to have come to the same conclusion. Both of them jumped in at the same time.

Jon tried hitting Ser Robert, but the knight was very quick given his size. Jon could only bash away on the shield.

However, the Night King had more success. His spear successfully slipped past Ser Robert's defense and pierced his belly.

The massive man grunted and swung his shield. The Night King ducked, but Jon wasn't in time. The shield bash hit him. He crashed against the stones a bit further.

Jon cursed. He had only been hit sideways after the full momentum of the strike, but it had still been more than enough to break several ribs.

A sudden roar sounded from above.

He knew that sound. There was only one beast that could make such a terrifying sound.

Moments later, he did indeed see the black dragon spiraling down.

About time.

However, things were not going well here. Most of the wights and Walkers had been cut down or burned to a crisp.

The Night King was still sparring with Ser Robert who seemed completely unfazed by his wound.

Jon pushed himself up. He was in bad shape, but not unable to fight.

Jon took Longclaw in both hands and…

Oh fuck.

Looks like things were over.

Ser Robert had swung his blade at the Night King. The Night King had blocked with his spear, but upon contact, the thing had scattered like glass. Now left without any defense, the Night King had no way to stop the Valyrian steel sword racing for his head.

Jon could only stare as his ally scattered into ice crystals.

As Ser Robert turned his attention to Jon, he could already hear the sounds of battle outside going down. Several Lannister men were coming behind Ser Robert.

Ghost came from behind and bit Ser Robert in his leg, but the knight kicked him aside. Ghost yelped. The direwolf jumped back to his feet but didn't seem keen on attacking again.

Maybe if he ran fast enough he would make it back to the tunnel?

Jon knew it was idle hope, but-

The loudest sound yet reverberated through the air. Drogon had finally landed on the courtyard. The cobblestones momentarily shook with a mini-earthquake.

The dragon turned his head to Ser Robert and released dragonfire.

Jon shielded his eyes from the bright light.

When things cleared up again, a disgusting smell filled the air. The men behind Ser Robert were burning alive with loud screams, but Ser Robert himself was unfazed. He had retreated several steps and his armor was starting to melt a bit, but he stayed completely silent and was not going down.

Two people got off Drogon's back. The first was obviously Daenerys, who was dressed in grey for the occasion, and the second was…

Arya?

His little sister hugged him clearing away any doubt.

"What are you doing here?" Jon asked.

"The rest is coming," she said. "But Drogon would only let me and Dany on his back."

"Dany?"

Drogon released his fire again. The double doors caught fire, but Ser Robert still wasn't going down. Drops of steel dripped from his armor and his helm was twisted now. The metal had bent out of shape and now the nose guard blocked one eye.

"I have to take care off something first," Arya said. She took out a Valyrian steel dagger from her back and ran towards Ser Robert Strong.

"Hey."

Jon could not stop her in time, but it quickly turned out he didn't have to. Arya was fast, much faster than the knight.

Jon narrowed his eyes. It was the fire. The fire had melted the joints in his armor together which slowed his movements. His vision, already obscured by the greathelm was even worse now that one eye socket was blocked.

The Valyrian steel ripped through the regular steel without trouble. Arya dodged every clumsy strike as if she was dancing.

Not long after, Ser Robert went down on one knee after a particularly nasty cut across his thigh. Arya pushed her dagger into his remaining eye socket. With a gurgling sound, the massive man went down.

Looks like they had won after all.

"You have my thanks, Jon Snow," a voice said.

"What took you so long?" He turned to Daenerys.

"Hey, you think it's easy to skin-change into this woman and fly that dragon around? I had to wait until the wights got everyone away from the ballistas."

Jon smiled. "Good to see you, Bran."

"You don't think this is a bit risky?"

"Daenerys has the better claim," Jon said. "We were planning something like this from the very beginning."

"Yes, but how will she react once I leave her? I'm not going to stay in this body forever. Although I do like this dress."

"We'll deal with that later. First things first."

Jon walked inside through the blackened doors.

All the guards were dead. If they weren't already been killed by dragonfire or wights, Arya had finished them off. Ghost had gone along with her.

Only one other man was in the throne room. He stood very much at ease in his black robes.

"You must be Qyburn," Jon said.

"Indeed," the man confirmed.

"Where is Cersei?"

"Fled through one of the tunnels."

"And you're not with her?"

"I had no desire to be stuck on the losing side. Besides, you came in through those tunnels. There's no telling if she'll make it out alive."

"And you hope that I will spare your life?"

"Was my hope misguided?"

This man might be useful after all. "How did Cersei hire those sellswords?"

"The Iron Bank of Braavos."

"And they just gave her the funds?"

"She gave them a part of my research. The Iron Bank was very interested in my theories on the undead and diseases. They liked my poisons too."

This man could be very useful. But Jon was not sure if he could be trusted.

Ideally he would sent him to the Wall or something, but the purpose of the Night's Watch was kinda up in the air now. If both the Walkers and the Wildlings were south of the Wall they really didn't have much to do up there.

"Take him to a cell," Jon said. "I'll decide what to do with him later."

Arya and Ghost escorted Qyburn to the Black Cells.

Bran/Daenerys came standing next to him.

"Things are going smoothly," Bran said.

"How is the situation outside?"

"The wights all collapsed when the Night King died. Many sellswords were already dead or fleeing before that. I don't think they intend to fight a dragon. Certainly not with Cersei gone."

"We shouldn't have any problem claiming the throne."

"Indeed," Bran confirmed.

"And Tyrion is bringing the army over here?"

"As planned."

"Only one thing left to do then."

"It's on Drogon's back," Bran said.

Jon went to retrieve the Targaryen flag.

He raised it above the Red Keep himself. It had been years since a Targaryen flag had last flown over the Red Keep and somehow, it felt very good. Like when he had taken down the banners of the Boltons. This was the way it had always been. Jon was Targaryen, nothing could change that. As Tyrion had told him a lifetime ago: 'Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'

Jon had certainly taken his advice to heart.

It would be good to see Tyrion back.

He idly wondered if he would restore the skulls of the dragons to the throne room as well.

Jon's feet took him back there.

"I trust you remember our deal?" Bran asked as Jon slowly ascended the steps.

"Of course. You get Casterly Rock and Tyrion becomes Hand of the King. That was the deal." Sansa would be keeping Winterfell.

Bran nodded, satisfied.

Jon seated himself on the Iron Throne.

"They really could have made this a more comfortable seat," he complained.

Bran chuckled. "After going through so much trouble to get it."

"Oh, the trouble has yet to begin, dear brother."

He would need Daenerys' army and her dragons to hold this throne and Bran could not stay in her body forever. So they might as well get this over with now.

Bran nodded. "I wish you good fortune. You'll be needing it."

Ghost curled up at his feet.

Jon took a deep breath. "And now it begins."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Even if it doesn't feel like it, this was the last chapter (no further additions are planned, sorry. Maybe I'll try a properly planned out story like this with multiple POV-characters someday, but no promises on that).

In the early chapters I decided to stick to Jon's perspective exclusively. The story was about Jon outsmarting everyone, not a complete rewrite of season seven (we have Preston Jacobs for that). But because of this, it feels like I rushed over many little things. I had several details on how exactly the Night King communicated with his wights and what exactly happened to Baelish and many other things, but I couldn't work any of them into the story without actually switching perspectives and I didn't really want to do that because I had no real plot for the other characters. Also, I kinda hate some of the characters and it would have been to blatantly obvious if I tried telling from their perspectives. I want to do the characters justice so I won't write for a character I don't like.

Anyway, this was a very weird story. I never tried uhm multi-chapter parody-like stories combined with fan theories, I guess? I don't even know what I wrote anymore. But I'm glad people enjoyed it. Thanks to everyone for following me this far and for all of your kind reviews.


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